Mortis viris stultus (575 hits)
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Submitted by Al <revenge_of_the_killer_dustbin.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-04-06 13:43:32 EDT
He stood, swathed in a midnight cloak, at the top of the cathedral's darkest spire. Covered with darkness, he stared down at the city with dark black eyes. His shoulders hunched above his head, making him look like some maelevolent bird of prey, about to dive downwards and deliver death. That was no coincidence.
His face was the true mask of terror. Not the mere horror a human feels when they finally see their nemesis. Not the scream a man feels inside when he finds a corspe in his bed. Something far worse...the unfathomable terror that lurks in the back of everyone's imagination. That feeling of terror that creeps up on you when you lay awake at night...the feeling that not all is right. The terror that radiated from his figure was the culmination of all the unrest that kept the innocent awake at night. It was the shadows creeping into reality, finally unleashing the horror that until now was a whisper on the night air. It was the stuff of nightmares.
Hiding his unsightful visage, was a rather tasteful top hat.
Somewhere down below, kiddies were playing with fire. His eyes darted down, tracing their every move. They were setting fire to bins, and cardboard boxes. Pissants, he thought to himself, But nobody is getting hurt.
Then the child came. He age must have been barely into double figures, yet some irresponsible cunt of a parent had let him wander the streets at night. He was carrying a pint of milk. Lazy shits. The tallest, most arrogant looking one of the pissants tripped the kid up. He fell with a stifled shriek, into a filthy puddle, spraying mud onto the chief pissants shoe.
'Oi! Has you just wrecked mah threads?' He said, in an accent that made him sound even dumber than he looked.
'I didn't mean to...it was...it was an accident,' stuttered the kid.
'You has wrecked mah threads! That is a disrespect' Replied the pissant, with a cocksure sneer.
'I think we should bang him!', piped up a second pissant.
'Teach that crackuh some respect', agreed a pasty white pissant.
The crowd of morons hemmed the child into the corner. He looked like he was holding back tears. The carton of milk, long forgotten, lay bleeding into a puddle, turning it milky brown. The crowd's faces blurred, they all looked the same anyway, and the boy began to lose all hope. Some of them had butterfly knives, or brass knuckles, or both. The chief pissant had something that looked suspiciously like a gun hidden in his pocket.
'Got any money, nigga?' asked one of them, with the same arrogant swagger that they all seemed to have.
'No mister, sorry', replied the kid, as sweat began to pour like blood from his forehead.
'Well, that is another disrespect. Got no bling to share with your homies?'
'I'm sorry...i dont have anything'
'Shall we bang 'im posse? Let's teach him some respect.'
'Please...i didn't do anything to you.'
The first punch came almost as fast as the black shadow that dived from the sky to catch it. Grapping the fist just inches away from the boys face, the creature crushed the hand. The pissant on the other side fell to the floor in agony. The thing stepped on his neck.
'Judgement has come' he rasped.
It took the gang a few seconds to realize that this fearsome cloak of midnight hid only one figure. After sizing him up...they regained some of their confidence. The death of their so called friend seemed of little consequence to them. The ringleader stepped forward again.
'What is you chattin? We ain't dun nuting!' He spat, as he drew his gun. 'I think we need ta teach you some respect, innit.'
'You don't know the meaning of respect' the thing whispered ominously, 'Now put the gun down'
The bullet flew from the gun at incredible speed, hitting the creature in the chest and then falling harmlessly to the ground. The creature laughed, a hideous sound, and turned to the child.
'Run along now kid, it's not safe to be on the streets late at night. You never know what you will meet.'
The child hurried off, and the creature turned. Blows rained down upon him like artillery fire. He swept one to the floor with a swift kick to the leg, and then kneed him in the face, cracking his skull. Whirling around to face his next attacker, he felt a knife dig deep into his chest. He tore it out, wiping the dark crimson blood on his cape, and embedded in his assailant's forehead. The wound in his chest healed quickly, giving him time to collapse the heads of two of the gang member's heads together. He tore through the stomachs of two of them and then turned to face the last one. The leader.
'You are a plague on a human race. You are the ignorance, the hatred, and the arrogance that causes mankind to fall. You are scum. I am the Angel of death. I will bring mankind's deliverance, by wiping the unworthy and unclean out.', he growled, with growing rage.
'I ain't done nutting! Please, man, don't kill me', tears were forming on the youth's eyes.
'Liar. You intimidate, you separate, you kill. How many have you intimidated with numbers? How many have you made fear to be different. Your kind shall suppress humanity with your ignorance no longer.'
'Please...', the gang leader was reduced to tears, and he fell to his knees, 'Please don't kill me'
'You disgust me! You shall plague humanity no more!' He roared.
In an instant the creature's dirty black wings leapt out from under his cloak. The creature drew a sword which gleamed even in the misery of the rainy night. It strained the mind to believe that something so beautiful, so well made, could cause death, but that night it did. Wiping the thick blood off of the sword, the Angel of death flew into the night, becoming one with the sky's black embrace.
********************************************
'Six dead', croaked Sam's transmitter, 'Four with horrific brute force wounds, one stabbed, and one...one...'
'Spit in out', moaned Sam, it was too early in the morning for him to respect the dead, 'One what?'
'One violently slashed, then crucified, then disembowelled. Above him, written using his own blood, "mortis viris stultus".'
'Christ!', cried Sam aloud, 'What the hell are we dealing with?'
'It looks like the handiwork of one man',
'My arse! What does his little message mean?'
'Well', there came a chuckle from across the transmitter, 'It means "Death to the stupid men"
'Urgh. How holier-than-thou. Any witnesses of the sonovabitch?', Sam asked, getting impatient.
'None that aren't a bloody mess on the floor, apparently.', replied the ever-joking forensic officer.
'Well run an apartment wide inquiry damnit! I'm not having some psycho killing the people I should be arresting on petty theft charges. This is the third time this week someone's gone vigilante on the scum of the street.', Sam yelled, angrily.
'Well, that is what all the victims had in common, sir.' said the officer, still laughing at his own inane joke.
'What?'
'Nobody gave a shit when they died.'
Sam almost choked on his donut with laughter.
'"Mortis viris stultus" indeed'
User Reviews
Submitted by KoolWang (user info) at 2004-05-29 07:25:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Wanga-langa-ding-dong
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-04-06 16:44:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Aliquis latine bene loquitur?
Submitted by masterbasser90001 (user info) at 2004-04-06 16:08:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
so wot if it's another anime storyline? Anime could kick your arse any day, and so could the author.
kl story man.
i bet ur a pirate of metal
;)
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2004-04-06 16:03:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Whose penis water whatnow?
Submitted by yidele (user info) at 2004-04-06 15:40:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
qui penis mihi aqua turbit?
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2004-04-06 15:26:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
ego dico lingua latina.
I'm not too good though. Don't go all pluperfect subjunctive on my arse.
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-04-06 15:08:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Latine loqueris?
Submitted by BleedTheSky (user info) at 2004-04-06 14:01:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Im sick of story lines fit for anime.
Submitted by Deisangua (user info) at 2004-04-06 13:56:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
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